My bike is in the shop right now

I have picked up my bike, newly repaired, near the north end of campus and plan on riding it back to Parrington lawn, where I live with my mother. I don't have a helmet, and wonder if I should really ride it because something is bound to go wrong if I'm feeling paranoid. I decide it's time to take a chance, so I get on and push off. Somehow I end up immediately turning down a road that is marked "Access to Authorized Vehicles Only". I decide now is a good time to test my brakes, so I do, and but I'm not able to slow down much. I almost continue down the forbidden road, but decide to get off. It's a good thing I did, because when I look I see that the brakes haven't really been fixed. I knowledgable voice echoes in my head about proper braking, and I feel guilty that I may have ruined the brakes. But no one ever told me!

I walk it home to the lawn and go in to work. The rest of this dream is really the most stressful dream about work I've had yet, and it mainly consists of me repeatedly making bad shots and almost poisoning customers for about a half an hour until I wake up.

Whatever

I am walking down a street in a more posh version of Fremont, when we suddenly feel the approach of a wave of excitement and cheers, coming from around the corner. It reaches us and suddenly we are caught up in the massive crowd as a group of cyclists in a race fly past. Ariana is there, yelling in a very appropriate manner for Kris, and Kris' mother Julie is halfway between me and Ariana, about ten feet away, also yelling. I stand on my tiptoes, craning my neck to see the contestants, about to cheer with everyone else, but I decide against it at the last second, as I haven't actually seen Kris. In any case the finish line is just past where Ariana now stands with Alex, out of my range of view. The race has already ended, and I hear Julie tell Ariana that the final run is about to start from that point; Kris should be in front. A gun goes off and Alex, Ariana, and Julie all see Kris before I do, but the instant I catch of him, his hair flying back, we all gasp. He forgot to put his helmet back on.
I am first to yell "Kris stop!", but is comes out as a murmur. His mother's attempt is louder, and I join her. Finally he realizes he forgot his helmet and brakes in shock. My heart nearly stops, as he is in the center of a pack, but the other riders miraculously avoid him (I suspect some ride through him, like ghosts). He topples onto the sidewalk and walks over to Ariana and Alex, unharmed as soon as the last rider has passed. Julie joins them and I remain where I am, wondering how to approach the situation.
Then I feel a heavy arm placed comfortingly around my shoulders, steering me towards the small group. I look up to see Kris' dad, and he silently tells me I don't have to worry about causing tension, just to talk to Kris.
I feel less anxious, but when we get to the group and Kris turns around, what comes out of my mouth is, "I thought you shaved your head. I saw you on your bike the other day, and you had a hat on but it really looked like you had shaved your head. I guess I was wrong." And he says, "Yeah," and turns away, following the rest of the group as they leave.

The Cold

Word spreads quickly through the crowd that there is going to be a fire tonight. Everyone in the parking lot speaks in hushed whispers, shivering in the cold antarctic night and wondering whether they should obey the hotel staff's instructions and go back to their rooms until it is time to evacuate. I decide I will go back to my room and pack up my things, and put on some warmer clothes so I won't freeze to death after the evacuation.
Up on the tenth floor I sit on the edge of the bed next to my suitcase, waiting for the phone call. Impatiently, I get up and look out the window to the parking lot and swimming pools below. I can just make out small specks of light from the lanterns of the nervous guests who refused to go back to their rooms.
I hear movement at the door- that must be him- the arsonist. I dash over and fling the door open, but he is gone; I just catch the last echoes of his laugh. I will beat him out of the hotel. My little sister and I take after him, alternating between flying and skating down the spiral ramps and staircases. The hotel has an old feel, though it has been recently renovated, reminiscent of the hotel from The Shining. The arsonist has taken the elevator, which is a stupid thing when there is about to be a fire. As we make our way to the ground floor we seem to switch roles several times from pursuing and being pursued- all I know is the rush of fear and excitement that means I will win.

In the parking lot I squint through the darkness, trying to discern my group of friends from the rest of the crowd. I determine I've got the right group, and out my arms around their shoulders, and turn my head back to the building- I can, now that I'm safe. Every window is dark, with the curtains open, and no sign of flame. I am surprised that everyone actually remembered the fire drill instructions from elementary school, forming a line and the last person out turning off the light. Still gazing at the building I say, "It's good that everyone made it out alright." I can hardly hear my own voice over the whistling wind.

At home, I prepare to go to an outdoor, middle-of-the-night dance. Our house feels huge and empty, and while it is well-lit, the darkness and cold press in. My mom is especially excited for me, running around with the camera like it's prom. She wants me to look nice, but I just want to be warm. I can't seem to find enough clothes, because I left most of them at home, not expecting to go to some crazy dance. I gather it will involve some freeform skiing and dancing in a snow-covered water park-type setting, and I remind my mother, "You know I haven't skied in years. How am I suppposed to stand upright, let alone spin around in circles with someone while sliding downhill?" She says, "Prepare for lots of bruises!" My friends wait at the door, all ready to go. At the last minute I decide I can't wear a windbreaker to a formal dance, and my shoes don't match my outfit.

I stand just below that exit ramp coming off of the West Seattle Brigde onto 99 that curves so sharply that you always end up squished next to the person next to you on the 120 to downtown. Part of it has disconnected, so that the ramp does not meet the freeway. Kris is up there on his bicycle, perched on the edge of the freeway, doing some odd maneuvers as a part of race. I wonder why he would do something like that to his bike. In a few seconds he is done and comes down to the basement of my house, located just under the ramp. We gather in the laundry room with Beth and Kellen. My mom bustles around doing laundry, she immediately gets them all engaged reading old Balderdash responses. Kris also shows them his latest project: his front wheel that he has begun threading with fine silver wire. It looks more like a sculpture, with an uneven web that bends the flimsy gold-foiled frame.
Determined to finally give Kris back his shirt, I tap him on the shoulder, but alas, I don't have the shirt with me. I do, however, tell him that I have something else from my dad that he might be interested in. I squeeze past my mom to get to a giant spool on the table and pull off a few pieces of the thick wire. I show Kris and his face lights up. "Copper wire!" he exclaims, as if it was just the breakthrough he needed to make the piece complete.
We all squeeze on to the piano bench and play fragments of pieces we remember from our childhood lessons.

Zombies!

I ride my bike up a giant spiral ramp in the mall-like east end of the Art building. I stop near the top, where some of my future classmates stop at an espresso stand. As I stand there the bike almost rolls off the edge of the ramp, as it has no guardrail, but I keep my balance and ride forward. I have difficulty turning the pedals over to the proper side, because it hurts to kick them in bare feet.

Later, I have to get out of the Art building because zombies have started invading. The basement has partially collapsed and become a cramped, uneven tunnel. I run into Eric from Solstice and point him in the direction of the exit, but I continue deeper into the depths of the building. For some reason I have to get back to the east end, although I know there are many zombies there. I take the elevator to the first floor and find someone I recognize. Together we push open the colossal wooden doors to the Church that has taken the place of the library. A zombie plays the organ at the opposite end of the hall, and many others wander about hissing dumbly.

Outside in the Quad the sun sets as I walk along the path, surrounded by people I should know. They are all dressed in black to play capture the flag, and run about to tag the zombies surrounding us. I try to tell them how stupid this is, and not to look them in the eyes, but as I watch Gracie come face-to-face with a zombie, and in the dusk her eyes begin to glow red out of a darkened face. In my peripheral vision I see more red dots start to glow in the darnkness. I go back the way I came, realizing I any attempt to save another of my friends would be useless. I take a right by the Music building, but stop near a blooming cherry tree as several of my shadowy, red-eyed friends surround me. I climb into the tree and try to leap off of one of the branches and take off flying in mid-air, but apparently my flying capabilities are limited to slowly floating upward from an immobile position on the ground. I quickly get up and face the crowd with diverted eyes, but this time in my peripheral vision they brighten. I look up and can distinguish the faces of Josh Morris, Brian Le, and others. I thought it was already night, but when I look at the sky I see there was just a cloudy sunset, and a little bit of day is still left, but the threadbare blanket of clouds is about to cover the horizon again. I run.

I come to a deserted highrise building in the center of town with my friend. There is no sign of life, human or zombie, just many, many pigeons. We decide the highrise is the safest place to stay because zombies can't climb stairs (or something), and all of the panic-crazed humans fled long ago. We decide to climb up the outside of the building just to be safe.

Quietly we climb past ten or more of the paritally destroyed first stories, deciding we need to get higher to feel safe. We decide the next one would be acceptable, but as we haul ourselves up to the balcony railing we hear voices. We cling to the egde and carefully peer over. There are two giant, fluffy, talking cats living in the apartment. The grey one sits in a patio chair reading a newspaper and sipping coffee. The orange one (the wife) asks her husband if he would like anymore lemonade to finish his breakfast. She walks out of the kitchen (upright), holding a pitcher of lemonade.
In a whisper I tell my shocked friend that when all of the humans left town or turned into zombies the cats must have taken over, because zombies don't care about cats. Without the repression and all of the hormones from eating human food they must have grown into more human-like creatures and taken over our lives. While they might be able to protect us, I reason that they are probably more likely to kill us to prevent us from attracting the destructive zombies, and because of their longheld hatred for the opressive masters.

Carefully, we climb upward, past three more stories of cat families until we reach the very top, deserted floor. We will have to be quiet, but there is enough food to sustain us for a little while. Just there is a massive crashing as the building collapses below us. Only our apartment survives destruction, and now sits on top of a giant pile of rubble. I think of all the dead giant cats underneath us. I don't have long to think as the door to the balcony crashes open and a horde of wild-eyed men and women rush across a bridge of rubble into the apartment. The man in front, dressed in a voilently colorful floral shit has his hands outstretched to strangle me.

No more hoops for me

I sit in on a lecture Ms. Kestle gives to the IB English class in Meany Stdio 267 about how difficult writing essays will be in college. She looks to me to affirm her claims but I just say, "Sure... if you want to believe that," because my essays are obviously shit and I do alright. Bored with her class I walk down the hall to talk to my dance teacher, Kory, and another instructor, Jurg. Just then class is dismissed and Mr. Fosberg asks me to guide everyone to the cheap food.

I take a group of some boys and a girl to the Hub, but since we come in through Allen Library we end up in a small three-story house that has been converted entirely into a Christmas display. It is terrifying. There are nutcrackers and elves and fake snow everywhere. We eventually find our way out and into the bathroom. I have to pee, but Mr. Fosberg yells that class is starting.

We all file out through another door, which leads to an outdoor pool. This is supposed to be Kathryn's family reunion, but Mr. Lerwick is ruining it and teaching gym class instead. We all pair up and wade grumpily into the pool. Then Mr. Lerwick gives us a long patronizing talk about how we've all been slacking, as we tread water, steadily becoming exhaused. Finally he gives us instructions for one partner to stand on the edge of the pool with other other in the water. The exercise involves the partner on the side gently tossing a piece of Styrofoam in the shape of a triangular prism (like something i keep having to draw for art) at the partner in the water, who is equipped with a hula hoop and a giant floating Q-tip. There is also a specific procedure for throwing the Styrofoam back to the side that I pretend to understand until Mr. Lerwick turns his back and leaves.

I get out of the pool, exhausted and rebellious, but when Kathryn and I lay down on the nearby lounge chairs, Lerwick returns, asking if we finished all of our repetitions. We give him the, "What do you think?" look and he replies, "Don't try to lie on this one! That's why I had this tree installed next to the pool!" We look at the pool and are astonished to see a huge deciduous tree with partially bare branched overhanging the pool. The rest of its leaves rest, yellow and orange, completely covering the surface of the pool. As we watch more leaves fall a a constant rate, as new ones constantly unfurl and yellow on the tree. Kathryn and I laugh in astonishment as Mr. Lerwick says, "I knew it! All I have to do now is show the undisturbed surface to the Superintendent and you'll finally get punishment!"

As hilariously entertaining as he is, we leave Mr. Lerwick by the pool and walk out to the playing field, where Mr. Sullivan sits in the bleachers. My bike balances, waiting for me, on the pitchers mound. I get on but feel unsure of how to ride it. I seem to be sitting on handlebars. I tell Mr. Sullivan that mom's bike had handlebars that fit my ass better, and create a mirage to show him what I mean. Then I get confused, because that bike wasn't even the right size, and besides, I like my new bike much better, and I tell him so. The mirage vanishes. He nods and encourages me to continue, waiting to evaluate my bike-riding skill. I get on the bike and pedal a few feet, but feel unsteady and decide it's best just to get off. I don't really need to do the evaluation right now, or I don't know why I need to do it in the first place.